


Sleep, little soul of me

by nolimepercipere



Series: Songs of Innocence [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Caregiver Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Daddy Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Gen, Little Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, M/M, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Non-Sexual Age Play, Soft Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Soft Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolimepercipere/pseuds/nolimepercipere
Summary: Joe lets out a breath and lets himself relax against Nicky.This, he knows how to handle.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Songs of Innocence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101896
Comments: 13
Kudos: 142





	Sleep, little soul of me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2998.html?thread=752566#cmt752566) on the TOG kink meme.  
> The title comes from [this old Latin lullaby](https://thoualamb.tumblr.com/post/639204044513132544/lullaby-of-the-virgin-lullabies-of-many-lands).
> 
> This was supposed to be a short drabble, but I got a little carried away and then lost control of it. Anyway... enjoy!
> 
> (Translations in the End Notes)

Joe hated missions like this with a burning passion. The kind that dragged out too long. Days on days of being stuck in the ass crack of nowhere. The kind where everything that could go wrong did, indeed, go wrong. 

Extraction had been a particularly messy business, with the team scattered and the comms malfunctioning. Somehow Copley had managed to bring them all out and in for debrief. Joe had been the last one, his heart faltering together with his steps when a cursory glance around the room revealed something – or worse, someone – missing.

His teammates must have sensed his rising panic because Nile was quick to her feet, a placating gesture towards him, “Nicky’s just taking a shower”. 

Suddenly Joe could breathe again, allowing his heart to go back to its normal rhythm. 

Still, there was a strange tension in the room. Turning to Andy he noticed how she was covered in dust and blood – most of which, luckily, didn’t appear to be her own.

Lips a stark line on her pale face, she approaches him, voice quiet and steady, “He took a shot for me, it blew half his head off”. 

Joe closes his eyes and takes a big breath in, reminding himself that Nicky is okay. Nile wouldn’t lie to him, his Beloved is just a couple of rooms away taking a shower.

Andy goes on, “It took him a while to heal. He was… confused when he came to. Couldn’t see nor hear yet and kept calling for you”.

“Fuck”, he says, and it comes out tremulous. 

“We all know head wounds are a bitch to heal from and I told him he could skip debrief but...”

“I know, boss, don’t worry” he tries to muster a smile for her, but mostly manages a grimace, “I’ll take care of it”.

Because Nicky had died. He had died and come back and Joe hadn't been there. 

Joe hadn’t been there.

It’s certainly not the first time it’s happened and, undoubtedly, it won’t be the last, but Andy’s regained mortality has them all on edge. Constantly tiptoeing around this newfound sharpened awareness of their transience. 

They are so attuned with one another that Joe immediately knows when Nicky comes in, even with his back still facing the door. 

Joe turns around and opens his arms in silent offer. Nicky immediately slots himself against his chest, feeling still damp and warm from the shower when Joe wraps loving arms around him, “ _Ben trovato, mio diletto_ ”. 

When long seconds have passed and Nicky has yet to respond to him in kind, Joe knows something is not right. He quietly nudges his nose against the fine hairs on his temple and gently angles him away from his arms to face the others. 

Nicolò goes along with the guided movement, a small uptick of his mouth to offer reassurance to the team, but it’s still all wrong. His Beloved’s gaze is always direct and piercing in a way that tends to make those who are not used to it quite uneasy. A “Resting cryptid face” Nile had called it once. He’s not looking anyone directly in their eyes now. 

Joe knows he’s good at dissimulating, he knows exactly how to angle his face just so – a fraction of an inch so that he’s looking only slightly off to the side – too little of a difference to be noticeable. 

Joe notices. 

He likes to think he would notice even without the too tight hold Nicky still has on his waist, his grip just shy of painful. Or if he hadn’t spotted the way his fingers can’t seem to stop moving, worrying at his palm or rubbing small circles on his thigh.

Joe lets out a breath and lets himself relax against Nicky. 

This, he knows how to handle. 

* * *

It doesn’t happen often – Joe would even call it a rare occurrence considering how long their lives have been – but sometimes Nicky gets into these moods. A _headspace_ they’ve now learned to call it. 

It’s not a weakness. No matter how difficult it is to convince Nicky otherwise.

His Nicolò is strong, the strongest person Joe’s ever known. His selflessness knows no boundaries: always helping others, always putting others first. 

Sometimes it just gets to be too much. Sometimes Nicky needs to let go. To let someone else take care of things for him. 

It doesn't make him any less of a good or strong man than he normally is. 

This process, this thing, takes different shapes. It requires different methods and strategies depending on the situation. 

Joe counts himself the luckiest man alive, to be the one person who’s got to learn to read the signs. Who gets to be there – each and every single time – to find the correct answer, the correct balm for his Beloved’s soul. 

There are times when it’s as simple as a hug. A hand on his neck, grounding him to the moment at present. Sometimes it’s Nicky laying on his lap, willfully defenseless and vulnerable. At other times yet, it’s his Beloved on his knees for him, head gently cradled between Joe’s palms. 

And then there’s this.

* * *

It doesn’t come as a surprise to Joe when Nicky wordlessly disappears to their room once they get to the anonymous roadside hotel they’re staying at. 

Andy feigns not paying attention to them and Nile gives him a confused glance before their boss drags her off to their own room. 

Gently closing the door behind him, Joe turns around to find that a small tornado seems to have struck their room: a pair of shoes and one single sock have been left right at the entrance. The black sweats Nicky had been sporting are lying in a crumpled pile a little ahead. Joe’s bag is open and someone has clearly rummaged into it as most of its content is now spilling out to its sides. Following this trail his eyes finally rest on the middle of the bed.

Nicky is wearing one of Joe’s coziest hoodies, his legs – feet splayed out to the sides – are bare except for one single sock sliding down and pooled at his ankle. He’s slightly rocking himself back and forth. His gaze to the bedspread where one of his hands is busy drawing lazy patterns while he’s brought the other up to his face, alternating between gently tapping and circling his lips with nervous fingertips.

Joe slowly sits down to his side. Quietly, careful not to spook him, he greets him, “Little lamb, it’s been a long time since I last saw you”. He raises one hand to Nicky’s face and tucks some of his fine hair behind one ear, “I’ve missed you so much”. Nicky immediately leans into the action so Joe opens his palm and offers it up to him. 

He rubs his cheek to it like a stray pet starving for a gentle touch and, finally, after what seems like an eternity, meets his gaze with his own sea-foam eyes. They’re glassy, wet with unshed tears, but unblinking. Droplets stubbornly clinging to his lashes like tiny crystals. Then a small murmur, voice somehow sweeter and quieter than usual. A tiny, breathy lisp he can’t quite control when he gets like this, “...scary”.

Joe feels his heart clench in his chest, “You’re right, _tesoro_ . It was indeed scary what happened today. But we’re all ok now, we’re safe. _Sei al sicuro piccolo mio_ ”.

Nicky turns and throws himself on his lap with stilted movements, hunching on himself almost as if trying to burrow deep into Joe’s very soul. 

He lets him have some moments of nothing but pure comfort and quiet, one arm holding him securely against his chest and sweet nonsense falling from his lips directly to Nicky’s ear. It‘s not long before he feels one arm raise and circle behind his neck followed by the familiar cadence of Nicky nursing on his thumb, breathing softly on Joe’s neck. That’s when he knows he’s calmed down enough that he can ask, “Do you feel like saying bye to the others, sweetheart?”

His only response is silence. It stretches for long seconds, but right when he’s about to prod once more, he feels Nicolò slowly but surely shaking his head against his shoulder, “Nuh-huh, baba say”. 

Joe feels his heart almost burst with love at the familiar moniker. He hums in assent before gently disentangling from Nicky’s clutching arms. He carefully guides Nicky to lay down on the bed, pulling the bedspread over him and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Be good till baba comes back”.

With another quick kiss to Nicky’s forehead he leaves the room, Nicky’s gaze heavy on his back. 

* * *

Dealing with the others is easy. Andy is not new to some of Nicky’s moods and, while she's never been privy to this one particular aspect of their relationship, she knows when to give them space. 

Nile is clearly worried by Nicky’s elusiveness, he can see it in her eyes. She looks at Andy for clues on how to handle the situation, which means she doesn't put up a fight when Joe announces he and Nicky are going their separate ways for now. He excuses Nicky's lack of goodbye citing deep sleep and exhaustion as excuses. In the end they’re family and there are no hard feelings, he leaves Andy and Nile to make their own plans with promises of keeping in touch.

Organizing their travel is a bit trickier. He knows that Nicky doesn't like anyone else but Joe to see him when he’s like this. His baba and no one else. 

They need to move, though, it just wouldn’t be easy nor practical to take care of Nicky properly in a hotel room without their things, without their space. 

Joe doesn't care much whether people notice that something’s different with Nicky, there’s not much they can do once it happens. He can’t force himself to be something he’s not and Joe would never ask him to.

In the end, Joe finds them a red-eye flight to one of their most secluded hideouts, right by the sea. It saddens him to see Nicky hiding himself in this way. Sank deep into his seat, not allowing himself to enjoy the experience when Joe knows he’s dying to plaster his face to the plane window looking down at all the pretty lights and marveling at how far up they are. He grabs his hand and squeezes it tight, smiling at him all journey long.

* * *

The house is just as Joe remembers it. Its cream-colored stucco walls gleaming warmly under the rising sun, calling out to them like a beacon.

Once inside Nicky kicks his shoes off and all but runs to their bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in his wake. Joe follows him with a fond smile and finds him in his underwear and hoodie – the same one, which he’d yet to take off – standing still at the foot of the bed with his nose scrunched up in an adorable frown, “'s all dusty, baba”.

Joe looks around, taking in the layer of dust that seems to cling to just about every surface in the room, “You’re right, it is quite dusty. I’ll change the beddings so you can rest a bit, baby”. 

Immediately he’s confronted by stormy eyes, the effect somewhat ruined by the adorable pout on Nicky’s lips, “Not a baby!”

“Of course, how silly of me!”, Joe humors him, making sure he looks contrite enough, “You’ll have to excuse your silly baba, little lamb”. 

He gets a small, vexed _hmph!_ in reply, which he makes sure to wipe away with a small peck to the cheek and a smile. 

Joe makes quick work of the bed and once he’s done with it, he safely tucks Nicky in. “Baba needs to go to town to buy a few things. I promise I’ll be quick, you stay put, hn?”. 

He knows he doesn’t really need to say such things, Nicky is a good kid. He hardly ever makes any troubles for Joe.

Nicky, who has already brought his thumb up to his mouth and is suckling lazily at it – fingers curled loosely close to his nose, suddenly tenses up. 

He looks up at him with too-wide eyes, “Aquilante?” he inquires after a few beats.

Joe immediately turns to retrieve the small, wooden horse figurine stored inside the nightstand next to their bed. 

All their safehouses have one stored somewhere. Joe tries to have a new Aquilante ready as soon as possible when they acquire a new place so that Nicky can always have its comfort should the need arise.

This particular Aquilante is one of the first ones. The details in the carvings almost completely faded, smoothed out by years of loving touches. 

“Here we go, sweetheart, Aquilante will keep you safe while baba’s away.”

“Hug an’ kiss?” 

Joe immediately indulges Nicky’s request, hugging him tight to his chest and pressing a soft kiss on his brow.

“Baba, Aquilante needs a kiss too” 

Joe feels the small figurine being pushed not too gently to his face, “Of course, sweetheart”, he turns his head to place a small kiss on the small toy as well.

When he comes back, arms full of groceries, the house is still silent and everything is exactly how he left it. Still, he quietly goes to check the bedroom and finds Nicky blissfully asleep. One hand securely keeping the little horse cradled next to his face. 

* * *

Once he’s done with the cleaning, Joe decides it’s time to head to the kitchen and start on a meal for both of them. Something nourishing and comforting – good for the soul and for the belly – maybe Nicky’s old minestrone recipe.

While he’s stirring the pot he hears the sound of steps thumping down the stairs, he turns around with a smile to welcome Nicky in the room. The sight he finds in front of him he’s possibly the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Nicky is standing in the doorway, hair sticking up on one side, thumb to his mouth and one fist, still loosely curled around Aquilante, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

He shuffles closer to Joe and mumbles around his thumb, “Hug baba”, lifting his other arm and silently asking to be picked up.

Feeling his face lit up with love, Joe bends down, “Of course _habibi_ , come here”, in a sweeping hug he brings Nicky up and with a small twirl sits him down on the kitchen counter. 

“Let’s put some socks on you, hn? You’ll catch a cold this way”. He’s since given up on trying to get Nicky to wear pants when he’s like this. He knows a lost battle when he sees one.

Legs idly swinging, Nicky lets Joe put a pair of fuzzy socks on him and turns to look inside the pot with what Joe can only describe as a disgruntled glare.

“What is it, sweetheart, you don’t like your baba’s cooking anymore?”, he asks, going back to stirring the content of the pot. Eyes going wide, Nicky turns and grabs Joe’s arm with both hands, “No! I like baba’s food!”, he tries to reassure Joe. He’s so cute, he can’t help but press a quick kiss to his forehead while he grabs a clean rag to wipe Nicky’s hands off. It should probably disgust him that he’s just been grabbed by at least one finger partially covered in drool, but – honestly! – they’ve touched each other while covered by worse. “But?”, he inquires amused.

Nicky folds his arms to his chest and grumpily mutters under his breath, “ _Voglio suppa dorata._ ” 

Now, Joe loves nothing more than spoiling Nicky and indulging his every whim, but he needs something more nutritious than _suppa dorata_. “Ah, we can have dessert once we’re finished with the main meal”. 

“But it’s not dessert, _si chiama suppa!_ ” Pleading, stubborn eyes turn up to fix on his. Joe can’t contain the laugh that bubbles up his chest. He ruffles Nicky's hair who is still looking at him half-disgruntled. 

“’s not a joke, baba. It's called soup!” 

“You’re right, you’re right. Names are important. Still, you will have your “golden soup” after you’ve eaten the rest of the food baba’s made for you.” 

Nicky still looks unconvinced. Joe smiles at him and goes back to stirring the pot.

* * *

“‘m finished, baba.”

Joe looks at the still half-full bowl in front of Nicky with a small frown. It’s not uncommon for Nicky to lose his appetite from time to time, but it’s been less than 24 hours since he’d sustained that horrible wound and Joe would really, really, like for him to eat some more. “Just one spoonful more for your baba, mh?”, he tries to cajole him.

Nicky lets out a gusty sigh and looks down with a small scowl. Still, he opens his mouth waiting for Joe to feed him the extra spoonful of minestrone. 

Joe does so promptly, “Thank you _habibi_ , you made your baba really happy”. He ruffles his hair affectionately and goes to stand up, both their bowls in his hands, when he feels a small tug from below. 

He looks down to find Nicky with his face still downcast, the hand that’s not clutching Joe’s shirt worrying at the tablecloth, “I can eat more”. 

Joe places the bowls carefully back on the table and kneels down so he’s level with Nicky's bent head, gently placing one hand on his lap to rub at his tummy. 

“Did you change your mind, _habibi_ , do you feel like eating more of it?” 

Nicky lifts his shoulders in a small shrug and still won’t look at him. 

Letting out a small breath, he insists, “Nicky, do you want more minestrone?” 

Another shrug. This time followed by a small murmur, “Makes baba happy.” 

Once again Joe’s heart feels ready to burst, “Oh sweetheart, _cuore mio_ , no”. Gently he cradles his head and guides his face up so they’re finally looking at each other, “You don’t need to do anything to make me happy. You always do”. He tries to imbue his words with all the care, affection and sincerity he can. “The simple fact that I get to be your baba is what makes me happy”. 

“Promise?” 

“Of course I do!”. Sitting up taller on his knees, he hugs Nicky close to his chest, unmindful of the awkward angle they’re in, “Are you still up for some _suppa dorata_?”. 

Nicky hugs him tight, nodding against his shoulder.

“Do you want to help whisk the eggs and sugar?”, he adds, breaking from the hug.

Nicky answers with another nod and the sweetest of smiles.

* * *

Nicky is once again up on the counter, looking at him impatiently. Joe grabs a bowl and drops some eggs, sugar and a hint of rose water into it before carefully placing it on Nicky’s lap, “Here you go, sweetheart”. 

Joe gets to work on slicing and toasting the bread. When he’s done with that and he turns the scene before him is adorable and not for the first time today he longs for a camera or his sketchpad. Nicky is keeping the bowl hugged close to his chest with one arm and with the other he’s whisking vigorously, tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth, eyebrows drawn tight in concentration. All under Aquilante’s watchful eyes where he put it on the counter next to him. Sensing being watched he raises his eyes to Joe “Am I doing good baba?” 

Joe makes a show of peering down inside the bowl to check, “You’re doing very well, little lamb. I couldn’t have mixed it better myself!”. 

Nicky preens at the praise, a dusting of blush coloring his cheeks.

“Here, give it to baba”, Joe places the bowl on the counter and takes Nicky in his arms who automatically latches himself to him like a koala and lowers his head to his shoulder.

“Do you want me to draw you something while you wait for the _suppa_ to be ready?”. Joe feels Nicky nod his assent and, snatching Aquilante up from the kitchen counter, goes to retrieve one of his many sketchbooks and a box of crayons and brings everything to the table where, once he’s sat down on a chair, Nicky perches himself on his lap. Thumb once again securely in his mouth he starts playing with some of the crayons, arranging them as obstacles for Aquilante to jump.

Joe busies himself gathering paper and a pencil. “What should baba draw for you?” 

After some consideration, Nicky decides, “A rooster!” 

Joe hums in assent, “Is this rooster doing anything?” 

Nicky nods decisively, “Reading a book!” 

“Got it, a rooster reading a book”, he smiles. 

“And he’s drinking! …umh, he’s drinking tea.” 

“Well, that’s a very sophisticated rooster. Does he wear a top hat? It sounds like something he would do.”

“Don’t be silly, baba”. He can’t see it but he knows Nicky is rolling his eyes at him. “He’s sitting inside, you can’t wear top hats inside. It’s rude”, he reasons. A small laugh escapes Joe realizing this is the most Nicky’s spoken in one sentence since the mission and it’s to reprimand him on his manners.

“You’re perfectly right, _habibi_.”

While Nicky keeps himself busy playing with Aquilante, Joe manages to make a quick sketch of the scene Nicky had requested: a rooster surrounded by piles of books, one held open between the feathers of one wing and a tea set waiting in front of him. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Perfect, baba!”, Nicky turns halfway on his lap to give him a big, loving – if somewhat wet – smooch on the cheek. “Thank you, I love it”.

“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. You color, I'll go check on the bread.” He helps Nicky slide off his lap and back into the chair.

* * *

Once he’s finished plating the _suppa dorata_ he carries the pile of sweet, fried bread and a small pot of honey with him. 

He finds Nicky kneeling on the chair, one foot peeking over the edge, body sprawled on the table very intent on coloring the book-reading, tea-drinking rooster he’d requested Joe drew for him. 

Careful not to spill anything Joe bends down to give a good look at the drawing, “You’re doing a great job, Nicky. Look at that! You stayed inside all the lines, good job, little lamb.” 

He can see the flush spread over Nicky’s cheeks all the way round to his neck and looks down at him with eyes full of affection, “Do you want to take a break from coloring? Your “soup” is ready”, twirling around, Joe presents the dish with a flourish.

Immediately he’s met with beaming eyes as Nicky turns to smile up at him, “Yes, please!”

* * *

Nicky seems to thoroughly enjoy his _suppa dorata_ , dunking each piece of the sweet, fried bread in honey with gusto. When the last piece disappears, he’s left with half his face covered in honey and crumbs. His hands don’t fare any better, “Look at you, you’re all sticky”. 

“Is just honey, baba”, Nicky grumbles as he turns away from the rag that Joe is futilely trying to use to wipe his face clean. 

“Just honey, he says!”. Joe lets the small cloth drop on the table, makes his eyes go as big as he can and brings his hand to clutch at his chest for added drama. 

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to go around all covered in honey? A bear might see you and get hungry.” 

Nicky’s eyes are glinting with mirth at his antics, “There’s no bears inside.”

“Are you sure, little lamb? I think I heard something”. Joe doesn’t even finish speaking his sentence that he’s dropped on his knees, growling and smattering kisses all over Nicky’s face and his hands which he’s brought up to protect himself.

Nicky’s voice is light and his protests are broken with laughter, “Stop it, you’re my baba not a bear!”

“Am I? No, you must be mistaken, little one”, he brings one of Nicky’s arms close to his face and fakes munching at it. “I fear all this honey has turned me into a werebear”. He looks at Nicky pleading, “I need a kiss to cure me of this curse! Swift, Nicky or I might eat you alive.”

Nicky gently pushes at his face with sticky fingers, “That’s silly, frogs need kisses to go back to princes. Not bears.” 

“I’ll let you know, little one, that bears do need kisses to go back to being babas to their little ones. Especially when they’re honeycrazed”, he ends with a growl.

With a sweet giggle Nicky bends over to Joe and places a quick peck to his lips. “Are you ok now, baba?”

Joe crumples down to the floor theatrically and lets out a big sigh, he looks up at Nicky relieved, “Oh _tesoro_ , you have saved me! I felt I was going crazy”. In one fell swoop, he’s back on his feet, gently coaxing Nicky up and away from the chair, “Quick, let’s go wash all the sticky off before I turn into a bear again”. 

He picks Nicky up and playfully throws him over his shoulder, making his way upstairs. Nicky doesn’t stop laughing all the way to the bathroom. 

* * *

Joe hadn’t planned on taking a bath as well, but one look at that sweet, upturned face coupled with a timid request and here they were. That and all the sticky tracks Nicky’s fingers have left on him.

Having a roomy tub was one of the few luxuries they liked to indulge in when it was possible. However, seemingly uninterested in all the space at his disposal, Nicky had chosen to plant himself on Joe’s lap, knees bent on either side of his legs, their chests glued to one another. Joe has his arms loosely linked around Nicky’s waist while he keeps himself busy lazily suckling at his thumb and letting his other hand play almost absentmindedly with Joe's beard. 

Aquilante keeps a watchful guard from where he’d been perched on top of a small cabinet.

Alas, after a while, the water starts inexorably turning lukewarm and Joe can already see goosebumps dotting Nicky’s skin. The hand that was playing with his beard has since migrated between their bodies, Joe can feel it resting right above his heart. “I think it’s time we both get some sleep, _anima mia_ ”, he gentles his voice in an apologetic manner, “We should get dried, go potty and brush our teeth”. To further prove his point, he only gets a sleepy hum in assent.

Once everything’s been taken care of they find themselves lying in bed, Nicky curled up to Joe’s chest. He’s lazily combing through his fine hair with his fingers, pretty sure Nicky’s sleeping already when he hears the smallest voice, almost a prayer, “Can you read me a story?”

Joe keeps combing through his hair, gently rubbing behind one ear, “I think we’re both very tired, _anima mia_ , I’ll tell you all the stories you want when we wake up. Let’s just go to sleep now, hm?”

“Don’t wanna sleep”, comes the mumbled reply and Joe can practically hear the stubborn pout in Nicky’s voice. 

“Sweetheart, baba is very tired”, he’s not lying, he’s been up on his feet non-stop since the mission and he knows Nicky is tired too. He was practically sleeping minutes ago in the tub, “I can sing you a song, would you like that?”, he tries hopefully. Music always seems to put Nicky right to sleep when he’s tired.

“B- but ‘m not tired. I want a story!”

Joe feels Nicky swallow down a sob and, worried, gently tilts his chin up. He finds tears already welling up in those soulful eyes of his, barely clinging to his lashes before they start rolling down his cheeks. 

“Nicolò, _angelo mio_ , what is it?” 

Nicky buries his face back in Joe’s chest, breath uneven, silent tears pouring down his face. Joe slowly sits up and pulls him into his lap. His shoulders shaking with every watery, silent sob that tears out from his throat. Not for the first time in the years they’ve spent together, Joe wishes Nicky would just cry aloud. Wail and whine, even throw a tantrum, like all kids do. Anything but this silent anguish he condemns himself to. He hates that the only thing he can do in these moments is hold him tight, try to soothe him with his touch and presence.

Letting out a shuddery breath, Nicky brings one hand up to his face to find once again comfort in suckling at his fingers, “Baba won’t be there”, he mumbles around them.

Joe feels like all air has been sucked out of him. He closes his eyes and lets his head rest heavily on the wooden headboard behind him. 

“Oh, little lamb”, he whispers softly, gently rubbing Nicky’s back in what is hopefully a soothing motion. “We’ve been having a really tough time lately, haven’t we?”.

He gently coaxes Nicky away from his chest and tenderly sweeps the tears away from his cheeks. 

“Sweetheart, there will be times when you’ll open your eyes and I won’t be there”. Nicky makes a low keening sound like he’s been wounded and Joe’s heart feels like it’s going to shrivel up and die inside of him. “Shh, _anima mia_ , listen to me”, he cradles Nicky’s face in his palms like he would the most precious of treasures, “I can’t promise I’ll always be there when you wake up. I can’t and I won’t”.

Nicky squeezes his eyes shut and more tears roll down his cheeks. Joe bounces him lightly on his lap and smooths his hair back from where it lies limply against his face, “I’ll always try”. He leans in close and gently touches their foreheads together, “As long as I walk this earth, nothing will stop me from trying to be close to you. I would move mountains and drain oceans dry if it meant I could get to you”.

Nicky is finally looking at Joe now, “Promise?”, swollen, tearful eyes beg him for reassurance.

“I promise, little lamb”, Joe smiles and wipes the tears off his cheeks, pressing small kisses under each eye. 

Exhausted, Nicky lets out a shaky sigh as he sags back down on Joe’s chest where he murmurs an apology, “Sorry I cried”, breaking Joe’s heart all over again. 

“Shh, it’s okay, _anima mia_ ”, he slides down the headboard so that they’re lying down again, “Go to sleep now”. 

“Love you baba”, his words are muffled against Joe’s neck. He turns and places a kiss to Nicky’s head, “I love you too, little lamb”.

Joe is not so naïve as to think this is it. Nicky’s pain and fears are wounds that run old and deep. Words alone, no matter how deeply heartfelt, can’t cure them so easily. But for now, in this very moment, feeling Nicky’s weight resting on his chest. Knowing that he’s trusted this much… for tonight, it’s enough. 

For now, they can rest.

**Author's Note:**

>  _“Ben trovato, mio diletto”_ : “Good to see you again, my beloved (literally “my delight”)” just in a kinda old timey way… think the use of _Destati_ in the van scene.  
>  _“Tesoro”_ : literally it means “Treasure”, but it’s used similarly to “Darling/Dear”  
>  _“Sei al sicuro piccolo mio”_ : “You are safe my little one”  
>  _“Baba”_ : I’m pretty sure this means “Papa/Dad” in Arabic. Please, do correct me if it’s wrong, as unfortunately I don’t speak the language  
>  _“Habibi”_ : “Beloved/Darling”  
>  _“Voglio suppa dorata”_ : “I want suppa dorata (literally “golden soup”)”. Now, suppa dorata is pretty much ye olde french toast from 15th century Italy. [Here’s the recipe](http://www.medievalcuisine.com/Euriol/recipe-index/suppa-dorata) if you wanna try it.  
>  _“Si chiama suppa”_ : “It’s called soup”  
>  _“Cuore mio”_ : “My heart”  
>  _“Anima mia”_ : “My soul”  
>  _“Angelo mio”_ : “My angel”
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes as this was not beta’d and English is not my first language.  
> I hope you enjoyed it  
> ♥


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